James convulses again, his form blurring at the edges as his mind struggles with perceptions it was never meant to process. Through the device's stabilizing field, I can see his quantum state fragmenting - consciousness trying to exist in too many dimensional layers simultaneously.

  "Hold on," I tell him, though I'm not sure he can hear me anymore. His eyes track movement through multiple realities at once, pupils dilated with awareness of spaces that human minds weren't built to handle. "Just... hold on."

  Rachel's facility exists in several states simultaneously, partially in normal space and partially in others. The darkness behind my eye shows me storage rooms filled with research data, equipment that measures quantum frequencies, records of natural dimensional sensitivity.

  But I can't leave James alone like this. His body shakes with tremors as reality becomes too fluid around him, perception stretched across too many layers of existence.

  "Okay, new plan." I adjust him to a more stable position against the multi-geometric wall. "We do this fast. Very fast."

  The device hums as I move through the facility, trying to identify the most critical research quickly. James makes a sound that resonates through several quantum frequencies - not quite pain, not quite fear, but something between both and neither.

  First room: banks of servers, their quantum architecture allowing them to process data across multiple dimensional states. I plug in a drive, start downloading everything I can find about natural sensitivity, about how human consciousness adapts to perceiving other spaces.

  "Still with me?" I call back to James. His only response is a laugh that exists in more frequencies than human vocal cords should produce. Not good.

  Second room: physical records, papers covered in equations that describe reality from multiple dimensional perspectives simultaneously. The darkness pulses as I scan quickly, grabbing anything that looks relevant to helping minds cope with natural quantum awareness.

  A crash from where I left James. I rush back to find him trying to stand, his movements strange as his body attempts to exist in several spatial configurations at once.

  "Everything's... moving," he manages, voice containing harmonics that hurt to hear. "Can't tell which way is... which dimension is..."

  "Stay down." I guide him back against the wall, noting how his skin feels both solid and fluid under my hands. "Just focus on breathing. One reality at a time."

  Back to searching. Third room: equipment I don't recognize, devices that measure quantum states across dimensional boundaries. One looks medical - designed to monitor how consciousness fragments during natural exposure to other spaces.

  I grab it, along with anything else that might help understand what's happening to James. His perception is opening too fast, too completely, without the Church's artificial constraints to buffer his mind against raw quantum reality.

  "Found something about neural quantum states," I tell him, checking a monitor. "How consciousness adapts to perceiving multiple dimensions. Might help us... James?"

  He's unconscious now, but his form keeps shifting between states of matter. The darkness behind my eye shows me his quantum signature fracturing further - mind unable to process the sensory input flooding through too many layers of reality.

  "No time," I mutter, grabbing one last set of files. "No time, no time..."

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  The device displays complex measurements as I return to James, showing how his consciousness fragments across quantum states. Not good. Very not good.

  "Okay," I say, gathering our supplies. "Time to go. Before your mind tries to exist in too many spaces at once."

  Getting him up is harder than it should be - his body doesn't quite obey normal physics anymore. Reality ripples around us as I guide us back through the spaces between spaces, trying to find the natural flow that will lead us back to normal dimension.

  "Stay with me," I tell him as dimensions blur together. "Just... stay in one quantum state. Any state. Please."

  The trip back feels longer, harder, with James's destabilized form to manage. The darkness pulses as I navigate quantum frequencies, looking for the right resonance pattern to guide us home.

  Finally, mercifully, we emerge into normal space-time. The abandoned lot looks exactly as we left it, though reality still ripples strangely around James's unconscious form.

  "Taxi's not an option," I mutter, noting how his edges still blur slightly. The device shows his quantum signature still fragmenting, though more slowly now that we're back in normal space. "Okay, plan B."

  I manage to get him into an alley, prop him against a wall that exists in only one geometric configuration. His skin feels fever-hot, consciousness trying to process perceptions from too many dimensional layers simultaneously.

  Phone. I need a phone. The one I grabbed earlier, before we left the hotel. Rachel's number - her real number, not the one she uses for her cover identity.

  It rings three times before she answers.

  "Quantum bleed," I say before she can speak. "Natural sensitivity exposure. Human mind, no preparation. How do I stabilize it?"

  A pause. Then: "How long was he exposed?"

  "Maybe an hour. In spaces between spaces. He started fragmenting almost immediately."

  "Damn." I hear rapid typing. "The mind can adapt to natural quantum awareness, but not that fast. Not all at once. You need to ground him in normal space-time before his consciousness fractures completely."

  "How?"

  "The device I gave you - it can generate a containment field. Not just damping, but full quantum isolation. It'll hurt, cut him off from dimensional awareness completely, but it might give his mind time to stabilize."

  The darkness pulses as I examine the device's settings. New patterns appear on its display - configurations I hadn't noticed before.

  "Bottom left corner," Rachel says. "Press the patterns in Fibonacci sequence. It'll create a quantum dead zone - no dimensional awareness at all. Like sensory deprivation for consciousness."

  James makes that strange resonating sound again. His eyes open, but they're tracking movement through too many realities simultaneously.

  "The colors," he whispers in frequencies that shouldn't exist. "The angles. Everything's... too much. Too real. Too..."

  "Doing it now." I press the patterns Rachel described. The device hums differently, generating a field that cuts off all quantum perception around James.

  He screams - normal human frequencies this time. His body jerks as awareness of other spaces suddenly vanishes, mind slamming back into normal dimensional limits.

  "Hold him down," Rachel instructs. "The transition back to normal perception can be... traumatic."

  That's an understatement. James thrashes as his consciousness is forced to exist in only one reality, one set of physical laws. The device shows his quantum signature slowly stabilizing, fragmenting consciousness pulling back together.

  "How long?" I ask Rachel.

  "Keep him in the dead zone for at least six hours. Let his mind rebuild normal perceptual boundaries. After that... gradual exposure only. Very gradual. The Church uses rituals and ceremonies to control the transition. Natural sensitivity is more dangerous precisely because it's more real."

  James goes limp as his consciousness finishes reintegrating. Normal human breathing. Normal human pulse. Normal human existence in normal human space.

  "Thank you," I tell Rachel.

  "Don't thank me yet. Get somewhere safe. Review the data you found. And Vesper?" Her voice turns serious. "Be careful who you expose to natural quantum awareness. Human minds aren't meant to perceive reality as it really exists. Not all at once. Not without preparation."

  She hangs up. I look at James's unconscious but stable form, at the device generating a quantum dead zone around him, at the research data that might help us understand what natural sensitivity really means.

  Time to find somewhere safe.

  Time to understand what we found in Rachel's facility.

  Time to learn how to help human minds adapt to natural quantum awareness without shattering under the strain of too much reality too fast.

  The darkness pulses quietly as I begin the careful process of getting James to shelter. Around us, normal reality feels almost false now - too simple, too limited, too constrained.

  But better that than letting human consciousness fragment under the weight of seeing everything at once.

  One dimension at a time.

  For however long it takes.